


'Night.

by Viviona



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Everyone Needs A Hug, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Mistletoe, Not My Fault, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 11:13:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13145490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viviona/pseuds/Viviona
Summary: Tord has a bad sleep schedule.





	'Night.

Snow flitted quietly down, practically invisible as it only revealed itself when passing by Christmas lights, which shone brightly against the heavy shadows.

(There was silence in the shared house, most of the lights were off. It was dark, very dark.)

Quiet was laid around Tom's room, with the exception of a groggy awakening. He rubbed his black eyes lazily, glancing around for his clock-which he could not remember where it-and instead opted to check his phone.

His hand swung to grab the tiny device, it's resting place on his bedside table.

(He tried to swipe it with too much force.)

Instead, he hit a stray bottle, and it fell, airborne long enough for the label 'smirnoff' to be revealed.  

With a startling loud crash, it smashed into the ground, millions of pieces spreading across the floor like flowers blooming.

(The moon shone through his curtains, the faint light catching on the shards.)

With an annoyed groan, and hand running through his hair, Tom forced his body up, legs swinging to the edge of his bed. He was frustrated at the fact that the sun hadn't even risen, and his Christmas (as usual) had already gotten a crummy start.

(The broom lives in the closet right by Tord's room-he thought.)

He was in his blue hoodie and shorts, and he was glad that his hoodie provides the extra warmth as he made his journey into the hallway. Tom  walked towards the closet door, his arm outstretched to open it. He then paused.

Standing in front of Tord's door, he now realized that his light is still on, and his door was open a crack. 

(Don't bother him, he's still probably awake.)

It's not uncommon that Tord would stay up late, this being painfully obvious by the way he falls asleep at the breakfast table, or his constant drooping eyes.

Tom carefully tread over the creaky floorboards, carefully giving the dark brown door a small shove. Tom can't help but cringe as it creaked open loudly. Peeking in, he can see that Tord isn't in bed, though even so, Tom carefully scanned the room and-

(He's asleep.)

He can't help but give a small sigh of relief when he sees this, but immediately after frowns. Tord sat at his desk, but his head was drooped, and at a closer look, he can see that Tord's head was resting on his arms. There's a pen clutched in his hand, though it looks like it might drop any second.

(There's a digital clock resting on his desk, it's screen showing off that it's 5:12 A.M.) 

He's curled in on himself, small snores emitting from him. Piles of papers and files were strewn out under him, dark bags hung under his eyes, his messy hair tousled.

(Just leave him be.)

He lightly moved towards his sleeping figure, and hesitantly he gave his shoulder a small prod.

(He's still asleep.)

All Tord does is mutter something quietly and shift around. Tom knew that he couldn't leave the little gremlin like this, despite 'hating' him,he couldn't help but feel bad.

With a heaving sigh, he carefully scooped Tord up in his arms. Tord's office chair swung with his body weight as Tom struggled to lift up the dead Norwegian. Finally, he shifted Tord until he was comfortably holding him. It wasn't hard, carrying him, considering that Tord is a mere 5'6, while Tom's 5'11.

(He's too light.)

Tord mutyered inaudibly as he unconsciously grabbed small fistfuls of Tom's hoodies as he cuddled into the unknown warmth. The whole meanwhile, Tom is fighting to keep a blush off him, though his face is burning a deep shade.

(Thank God no one was there to see him.)

Laying Tord down into his bed, Tom couldn't help but stare. He looked so calm, unlike his two most common sides: restlessness, or utter exhaustion.

(He should leave and go back to bed.)

Tom left, only pausing to turn off the light, forcing himself to not glance at the Norwegian. Tom went straight to bed.

(He forgot to clean up the mess.)

____________

The next morning, Tord woke up, very confused, but surprisingly, without a sore back. He yawned, stretching his arms as he sat up. He was puzzled, to say the least. He would normally wake up at his desk, his joints aching as he would find out he only dozed off for less than an hour, before forcing his fuzzy brain to continue to sign more papers.

Sliding out of bed, he made his way to the door, before nearly slipping on one of his pens, which was laying on the ground.

(Weird.)

He stumbled into their shared kitchen, his eyes landing on the coffee maker as he grabbed a random mug. As his coffee brew, he plopped down at the table, only now realizing that Edd was watching him bemusedly.

"You're up early," Edd stated simply, taking a sip of coffee.

Tord nodded absentmindedly, his eyes closed. "Yeah, got more sleep than usual." His eyes flicked up towards the coffee maker as it made a beeping noise.

He scooped in his usual amount of sugar, before heading back to his room.

(He needed to do more paperwork.)

Unfortunately, Tom came out of his room and they bumped right under the doorway. Tord smiled lazily.

"Merry Christmas, Thomas," Tord said, sounding sarcastic.

(He wasn't.)

 

Tom looked as though he was about to retort something back, though he was interrupted by a very enthusiastic Edd.

"You guys are stANDING UNDER MISTLETOE!"

They both looked up in unison, realization both dawning on them as Tord flushed a bright red. His eyes met Tom's as they both stood there, frozen.

Fuck.

(Fuck yes.)

**Author's Note:**

> Haha it has a rushed ending because my deadline was Christmas
> 
> Help
> 
> (Hey I'm also open to tomtord or eddsworld requests!!)


End file.
